Wednesday, December 23, 2015
The Ritual Beating
RB GOES SOUR
announces the Patriot-Beacon.
As a result nearly the entire Roger Hodding family
is in custody.
Historian Douglas Mercer of Wyatt Earp Junior
College explains:
“In the early days, the miners could be beaten.
In the contract.
The Federals stepped in, but the First Families
kept the tradition with Ritual Beatings.
The mines have given out, and the Hodding family
runs Paradise 2 Catering, and not Paradise 1 Mine.”
Waitpersons Hal Nestry and Dinah Lodge have been
hospitalized.
"Just a matter of time before one of these RBs ran wild,"
remarks Sheriff Delbert Cart. "When asked about the
treatment of his wealthy prisoners, he quips, "Country
Club at end of Appletree Lane. This is here!"
Family Attorney, Rastings Murr, admits the young went
a bit far. "But the tradition is a hallowed one, and we're
willing to negotiate a nurse and officer present next time."
Family elder, Judge “Maximum” Hodding, confined to a
wheelchair and thus not a participant, holds that. "It's all
Political Correctness! You don't need any more laws!
Enough on the books covering everything under the sun!
In the old days," he adds, "the miners took it like Men!"
His son, Roger, nicknamed “Minimum” and the present
family leader, echos his sentiment.
But Professor Mercer claims that "It'll go easier on them if
they don't try to be poster children for Republicans!"
Labels: \, beating, brutality, class, Justice, perverted tradition, Republican, ritual violence, Rule By Wealthy, tradition, wealth
Saturday, December 19, 2015
Presence
Just before Delilah repaired to her little alcove for
The Late Show, she inexplicably opened up about
her former mother-in-law.
The astringencies delivered to a young bride from
a polite mask!
Clint said he'd pray about it.
“You can't have Faith for another person!”
Turning his back, he sunk to his knees, bedside:
"Called Love."
The next month they decided to sell off the retail
operations, concentrate on mail order and net.
Lorna worked in the original farm store, mid the
framed photo of son Hap, Delilah’s first husband,
lounging on the catsup Harley he killed himself with.
The new owners loved her sweet way with customers.
Named her The Tradition.
Labels: bride, business, faith, farm, farm store, Harley, mail order, mother-in-law, net, Prayer, rural, second marriage, tradition, widow
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Iowa Holiday Inn Circuit
“Our favorite second baseman is hitting .176.”
“Comes to us all! Sayonara-time.”
“Yeah. for him! But when I mentioned it to
Glasson, he seemed to equate me with the
weak player!”
“Well, he’s a little sonofabitch, and certifiable!
You and Chubby, and Earnestine built the
company! And without you alone, be bankrupt
by now!
Glasson comes in high on the hog! Pretty easy
then! AND to have his mouth now!”
“Really!"
“And another thing: without YOU...!”
Maybe his Delly too loud with this last, because
Improvs of Corn thread between the restaurant‘s
tables. Banjo, violin, bongos, castanets!
And singing
Without you
ooo-ooo
ooo-ooo
and
With with with
out out out
you you you
-- other riffs on Delly's words nearly as bright.
Even in his hurt, Mark applauds; she, as
always, blushes.
Labels: business, Holiday Inn, hurt feelings, improvisation, Iowa, motel, riff, tradition
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Justice Trifecta
Highest Political Operatives
-He's a ferociously independent judge.
What the nation wants.
-And he'll do every fuckin thing we
tell him.
-Best of all possible worlds!
---
Legislators and Judges
-Then just what the fuck do these judges want?
-They adore the thrust of the new law, but clarity.
Clarity!
-That, and we're all out of business.
---
Severe Sentences For Hackers Portraying
Their Own Version of Patriotism
Hellfire judges wish
to spread the wealth
of punishment around
to those opposing
the slipping thrust
of grand old words.
Labels: independence, judge, Justice, legislator, punishment, tradition
Monday, February 18, 2013
“Not So Super Mario”
The name hung on him
by the Irish woman,
also here to learn the new
series of switches.
He shunned her, a bitch,
pure and simple, who cut
all for even innocent takes.
During the Super Bowl frenzy
he wore a Baltimore jersey.
Only he and Group’s basic
“Drama Queen” did so.
From something this silly,
a bond formed and they,
despite warnings, dated.
She couldn’t fathom his
fascination for what she
called soccer. “Like ballet
with the Prima Ballerina
shrieking in pain over
a hangnail.” He explained
that what she further labeled
Academy Award! was similar
to her frequent protestations
for justice and equity.
Didn’t wash, so he gave up.
His attention seized,
anyway, by her performances
bordering on egregious. Such
disturbed others; he simply repeated
to her how lovely she was in everything.
When it grows time to leave,
she floats following him, now
loses that idea quickly without
his really weighing in.
Back in Bolzano, how her emails flood!
Then hop, diminish, and stop.
Two old uncles visit. They have found
a bride for him. He thanks them, but de-
tails how such rituals have truly lost force
in such a cosmopolitan area. But
certainly they will meet!–out of
respect for their love and position.
The photo shows her to be pretty.
And reserved. That proves
the clincher finally.
The name hung on him
by the Irish woman,
also here to learn the new
series of switches.
He shunned her, a bitch,
pure and simple, who cut
all for even innocent takes.
During the Super Bowl frenzy
he wore a Baltimore jersey.
Only he and Group’s basic
“Drama Queen” did so.
From something this silly,
a bond formed and they,
despite warnings, dated.
She couldn’t fathom his
fascination for what she
called soccer. “Like ballet
with the Prima Ballerina
shrieking in pain over
a hangnail.” He explained
that what she further labeled
Academy Award! was similar
to her frequent protestations
for justice and equity.
Didn’t wash, so he gave up.
His attention seized,
anyway, by her performances
bordering on egregious. Such
disturbed others; he simply repeated
to her how lovely she was in everything.
When it grows time to leave,
she floats following him, now
loses that idea quickly without
his really weighing in.
Back in Bolzano, how her emails flood!
Then hop, diminish, and stop.
Two old uncles visit. They have found
a bride for him. He thanks them, but de-
tails how such rituals have truly lost force
in such a cosmopolitan area. But
certainly they will meet!–out of
respect for their love and position.
The photo shows her to be pretty.
And reserved. That proves
the clincher finally.
Labels: arranged marriage, Drama Queen, Irish, Italian, office, soccer, Super Mario, tradition
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Southern Reactionary-Progressive
“Take my wife,” said the Jewish comedian,
Henny Youngman. “Please!”
Mine, who I’m tickled to retain, is a graduate
of a
hyphenated southern college, the rap on
which was it served only as a finishing school.
It did that, of course, but reforms gave the girls
much more in the way of History and Literature.
Even Political Science, with its grimier facets,
the ladies could absorb without losing their
gentler sides.
And still fiercely compete in athletics! My woman
a softball player who just missed the final cut in
the Olympics.
In the best case, women soften society. (And doesn’t
that open me to attacks! Yet it’s true.)
go off flawlessly.
The infinite details of which I’d screw up.
On the other hand, she stays away from my business.
If you’re invited here, you’ll swim in a sea of old gentility,
hospitality, gourmet food and beverage, etc.
And intellectual conversation.
If you’re a “Yankee” you’ll of course note the help is
black.
True, but with exemplary wages and benefits!
It’s the New South!
So much so that a reception we hold for local college students
includes a daughter of trusted staff.
Thus parents serve her, and my wife and I make her
more than welcome.
We find that beautiful!
How you do is your lookout.
Labels: college, equality, New South, Race, South, tradition, women, working
Saturday, January 05, 2013
Attendants
Jilly’s father always opened the car door for her mother.
Boyfriend Mark for her, never. Period.
Noticed by her father when he went to Sears with them.
“There are many attendant bullshits, young man, and you can’t avoid all of ‘em.”
“Every stinking one!”
“Good luck. You’ll need it.”
“Put men together, get argument!” Jilly shrugged, piloting the
Buick into the shopping center.
Labels: chivalry, custom, Ivanhoe, tradition
Sunday, May 01, 2011
College President and PR Man: Window
“I don't think we've really had Public Relations up to now.
As a result, perhaps, we've been mostly forgotten.
But we have, of course, a story to tell.
Look at the buildings alone. Most ivy-covered and decaying.
Going back to the earth. Isn't that something of what
Frank Lloyd Wright was getting after?
That monstrous hulk is Old Recitation Hall. A homeless man lived there for seven years before he was discovered. Well, his body was when the place stunk even worse than usual.
And the human resources! That mess of dawdling affectation on a six-thousand dollar bicycle there is a poet. Girls are digging his vagueness.
Off he goes!–backpack and beard flapping in the wind.
Anyway, wander around. His like inhabits most departments. Along with relics, grinches, and creeps. Oh there are normal people, but they’re overwhelmed. You'll find some muttering to themselves, prior to taking walks to strike out
at invisible evils.
When all the trees are in bloom, nobody notices a thing.”
“I don't think we've really had Public Relations up to now.
As a result, perhaps, we've been mostly forgotten.
But we have, of course, a story to tell.
Look at the buildings alone. Most ivy-covered and decaying.
Going back to the earth. Isn't that something of what
Frank Lloyd Wright was getting after?
That monstrous hulk is Old Recitation Hall. A homeless man lived there for seven years before he was discovered. Well, his body was when the place stunk even worse than usual.
And the human resources! That mess of dawdling affectation on a six-thousand dollar bicycle there is a poet. Girls are digging his vagueness.
Off he goes!–backpack and beard flapping in the wind.
Anyway, wander around. His like inhabits most departments. Along with relics, grinches, and creeps. Oh there are normal people, but they’re overwhelmed. You'll find some muttering to themselves, prior to taking walks to strike out
at invisible evils.
When all the trees are in bloom, nobody notices a thing.”
Labels: campus, college, tradition
Sunday, August 01, 2010
Order
He sits in the clearing apologizing to The Moon Goddess, her light made jagged by the clutter where materials from
The War Dance have been abandoned.
Nooka-nooka he pronounces. Then just moves his lips
knowing that the evil spirits still hear. The new dancer playing
First Chief had left out the end of the dance where he should stomp into the five recognized directions screaming
nooka-nooka!
In a vision, the new Chief informs him, "Yeah, we got rid of the nooka-nooka shit. First of many."
The party noise swells from the cove beach and then stops.
"All passed out!" he explains to The Moon Goddess, but she has departed.
Soon, Qua'wie will sweep the clearing with a palm leaf.
As he has for sixty years, even during typhoons. But first they will put the dance artifacts back into the ritual hut, an exact prayer for each.
He invokes Pei-o the comedic Chief of The Second Period
singing Be cheerful and stupid. And wait.
He sits in the clearing apologizing to The Moon Goddess, her light made jagged by the clutter where materials from
The War Dance have been abandoned.
Nooka-nooka he pronounces. Then just moves his lips
knowing that the evil spirits still hear. The new dancer playing
First Chief had left out the end of the dance where he should stomp into the five recognized directions screaming
nooka-nooka!
In a vision, the new Chief informs him, "Yeah, we got rid of the nooka-nooka shit. First of many."
The party noise swells from the cove beach and then stops.
"All passed out!" he explains to The Moon Goddess, but she has departed.
Soon, Qua'wie will sweep the clearing with a palm leaf.
As he has for sixty years, even during typhoons. But first they will put the dance artifacts back into the ritual hut, an exact prayer for each.
He invokes Pei-o the comedic Chief of The Second Period
singing Be cheerful and stupid. And wait.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Tradition of Never Giving a Flying Fuck in Florida
Town fathers meet in general store
to discuss Post Office turning down
proposed name as too long.
Baker's Cocoa reposes
on counter and one shrugs
What the hell let's call it Cocoa.
Town fathers meet in general store
to discuss Post Office turning down
proposed name as too long.
Baker's Cocoa reposes
on counter and one shrugs
What the hell let's call it Cocoa.
Labels: Cocoa, Florida, tradition
